Box of Glass
by JKBrimera
Summary: Dominique is used to living in her sister's shadow. Victoire is gorgeous and talented; Dominique is marginally attractive at best with an aptitude for artwork. But when Teddy Lupin begins to act strangely after the death of his grandmother, Victoire is too oblivious to help him, and Dominique is forced to make herself known. Convoluted relationships and werewolf problems follow.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: _I've been playing with this storyline for a while and I decided to give it a shot... I'd like to issue a warning that there are eating disorders and depression in this fic, but neither are (hopefully) glorified, and it is not my intention to promote either in any way. Please give the first chapter a read and let me know what you think! _  
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><p><strong>Chapter One: The Funeral<strong>

_"The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living." - Cicero _

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><p>The sky was overcast, and it reminded Dominique of the itchy grey sweater in the back of her closet. She pulled uncomfortably at the hem of her collar. The black lace was rubbing the skin of her neck raw, and her hair was frizzing in the humidity. If Andromeda were here, she would have offered to braid Dominique's hair for her, but she wasn't, and so Dominique had left her hair down.<p>

Almost inadvertently, her eyes were drawn to the knot of black-clothed figures huddled by a wide oak tree nearby. Her sister leaned against the base of the trunk, looking polished and impeccable: gleaming blonde hair, suede shoes, and an embroidered handkerchief. Her brother Louis was similarly dressed. Standing together, they could have been a family straight from a catalogue advertising formal wear.

"Nicki!"

Dominique glanced up. Her mother had broken away from the crowd. Even from this distance, Dominique could see that she was frowning. "I 'ope you are joining uz, ma chérie?"

Dominique shook her head. "I just want some air."

"Well." Her mother's delicate eyebrows knit together. "Zat iz why we are outside, non?"

She looked like she wanted to say more, but Bill lay a hand on his wife's arm. His lips found her ear. Fleur's expression cleared, and she bit her lip as the pair melted back into the crowd. Dominique could just make out the flame of her father's hair. Whereas Victoire and Louis had inherited the finely spun gold silk from their mother, Dominique was all messy brown curls and ringlets. Dominique could remember her father saying once that between his and her mother's stubborn insistence that she have their hair color, Dominique had done what she did best: not listened to either of them.

A sudden movement caught her eye. Teddy, red-eyed, threw a handful of dirt on to the coffin. His suit was rumpled, and his tie was askew. Dominique watched with a lump in her throat as Teddy knelt at the coffin side. Without her permission, her feet began to move, and then she was beside him.

"Andromeda would have hated that, you know."

Teddy didn't look up. "What do you mean?"

"You know that I mean."

The corners of Teddy's lips quirked, and his eyes fell down to his crisp suit trousers. A dark circle, wet with grass and mud, had begun at the knee. "An hour in the snow, and you're good to go. A minute in the rain…"

"And you'll have stains," Dominique finished.

"It'll come out with a spell." Teddy fingered the fraying seams, pinching them between his thumb and forefinger. The suit was an old one of his father's, Dominique knew; Teddy had never had to wear it before, but it had seen plenty of use with Remus. Too much use, Andromeda had always said.

"I miss her," Dominique admitted.

If she was worried that Teddy might despise her for having said it, she needn't have bothered; Teddy squeezed her shoulder. "Me too."

"I haven't cried yet."

"I have." There wasn't a shred of embarrassment in his voice. "This morning – for a moment, I thought that I heard the kettle, and I ran downstairs. When she wasn't there…"

"I know."

Teddy stood up, brushing the dirt from his trouser leg, and Dominique caught his free hand and gripped it tightly. Her throat was swollen and it felt as if a wad of cotton had been stuffed inside of it. Heat built up at the back of her eyes. Teddy drew her in, pressing an affectionate kiss on her forehead. Even as he did so, she could see his eyes straying to where Victoire stood.

"Go," she sighed, giving him a shove. "She wants to see you, too."

Teddy stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Will you…?"

"Yeah." Dominique forced her lips to smile. "I'll be okay."

He ruffled her hair one last time before jogging to where Victoire stood, a graceful silhouette in the dying light. She was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Dominique watched as her sister buried her head in Teddy's shoulders, and he held her shaking body, massaging circles on her back. Dominique swallowed past the burning in her eyes. She knelt by the coffin as Teddy had done moments before.

"I wish you were here," she confessed.

The coffin remained silent and still. Dominique had seen Andromeda only a few days before she passed away, but it felt like a lifetime ago; the two women had baked scones together. Dominique had spilled the flour everywhere and Andromeda had made her clean it up without magic because it apparently built character. Dominique had ended up drawing designs on the floor instead. Andromeda had left the drawings there for the whole afternoon because she couldn't bear to vanish them.

"I wish…" Dominique blinked hard. "I need your advice." Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. "I don't know who else to talk to."

Silence. Dominique had been expecting it, but it still hurt. Some part of her had been hoping that Andromeda had left her a final message somewhere. Perhaps guessed what Dominique had been so worried about. But the only noise on the hill was the caw of crows, and eventually Dominique hiked up her skirts and began to climb back to where her family stood.

"Nicki! Nicki!"

She stumbled as a blur of red hair and freckles collided with her stomach, almost bowling her over. Lily Potter grinned up at her. Her white stockings were coated in thick brown mud, which, fortunately, her black skirt hid well. Lily smiled, and Dominique could see that she was missing one of her front teeth.

"Hugo won't let me play tag with him!" She tugged fruitlessly at the hem of Dominique's dress. "Come play with me."

"Sorry, kiddo." Dominique gently untangled herself from the young girl's grasp. "Not right now, okay?"

"Are you sad?"

Lily's brow was furrowed, and she looked surprisingly thoughtful. To her horror, Dominique felt tears spring to her eyes. She scrubbed them away with the back of her hand, forcing her lips to smile. "A little."

"I don't want you to be sad," Lily stated plaintively. Her small hand sought Dominique's, and she pulled her farther up the hill. "Let's go see Teddy! Teddy always makes people happy."

Dominique followed the younger girl's insistent tugging, allowing herself to be led blindly, a cart to Lily's horse. As soon as the young girl saw Teddy, she dropped Dominique's hand, running instead with a battle cry into Teddy's arms. The older boy had to let go of Victoire to scoop Lily up. Dominique saw irritation flit across her sister's face, but it was gone in an instant.

"Hello, Lily," Victoire said politely. "You look lovely today."

Lily stuck out her tongue and blew a wet sound. Victoire looked absurdly horrified, and for the first time that day, Dominique felt her lips twitch into a reluctant smile. Lily was already yanking on the lapels of Teddy's suit jacket.

"Do the blue hair! Do the blue hair!"

"Oh, Lily…" Dominique exchanged a helpless glance with Teddy. "Now's not the time, sweetheart."

"I want the blue hair!" the young girl insisted.

"It's fine." Teddy's face had softened, and for the first time since his grandmother's death, Dominique saw his posture relax. The deep creases on his forehead smoothed, and he ruffled Lily's curls. "The blue hair?"

"Yes!"

Victoire pursed her lips disapprovingly, but didn't say anything as Teddy screwed up his features. They all waited, watching his intent concentration, and then Teddy opened his eyes. His sandy blond hair remained unchanged, and he pushed a hand through it, as if to confirm it to himself.

"I can't do it," he said, frowning.

"Try again," Dominique suggested. "You're probably just tired."

Teddy closed his eyes, meditating for a moment before shaking his head. "It's not working."

There was thinly veiled panic in his voice. Lily, who had grown bored with watching Teddy close his eyes, jumped from his arms and raced back down the hill. She and Hugo weaved around the tombstones, their arms outstretched like zombies. Teddy frowned, watching them, and Dominique tried to keep her voice light. "You just need some sleep," she repeated.

Teddy nodded, but his expression didn't clear. His gaze was fixed on the coffin farther down the hill, and his eyes were the same cloudy grey as the sky. Dominique followed his gaze to where a knot of mourners had gathered, a black fist amidst the golden brown skin of the earth. There was a trodden path where the leaves had been pushed down by footsteps.

Dominique's hands itched for her pastels. She wanted to color the scene in shades of grey: the smoke of the sky, the smudgy white of the horizon, and the bleak black of the mourning clothes. The only color came from the flame of a child's hair, chasing her cousin over the bones of the dead.

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><p>Dominique fiddled with the clasps of her trunk. Robes and scraps of parchment exploded from the side like stuffing from an old sofa, and she tried in vain to push it back inside. She let out an irritated huff, pushing the sweaty brown curls from her eyes.<p>

"Bloody hell," she growled.

There was a light rap at the door. Victoire glided through the open frame, her nose wrinkling as she took in the mess. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" Dominique stood, brushing her hands on her jeans. There was a rip beginning at the knee. "I'm packing."

"You could have fooled me," Victoire said.

Dominique retreated to her drawer. Her sister stepped carefully into the room, picking her way across the floor as if it was a battlefield riddled with land mines. She was carrying several plastic baggies in her hand, and they were labeled with words like _toiletries _and _jumpers_. Victoire had shrunk several objects to fit inside of them.

"No tissue paper?" Dominique quipped, unable to resist. "Are the words color-coded?"

Victoire was unruffled. "You have paint on your shirt."

Dominique looked down. Not surprisingly, her white top was decorated with flecks of forest green and sky blue acrylic. It had never bothered her before, but under her sister's inspection, she felt as if she were wearing slugs. "Was there something that you wanted?" Dominique sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Or did you just come here to judge and belittle me?"

"My skirt." Victoire went to lean against a drawer before apparently thinking better of it. She stood, tense, in the middle of the room. "Where is it?"

"How should I know?"

"It's missing," Victoire informed her. "And it's not likely that Louis took it, is it?"

"I don't know." Dominique began to pack her art supplies. She was more methodical and precise with this part, lowering her paintbrushes carefully into a knapsack. "Louis is more likely to take it than me."

"It's salmon," Victoire said, as if that might somehow change the fact that Dominique didn't have it.

She looked up, mildly exasperated, her hand hovering above her sketchpad. "I don't have it, okay?"

This much was true; Dominique never borrowed her sister's clothing. As much as she envied Victoire's dressing style, Dominique knew that she could never look half as good in Victoire's clothing as Victoire did. Her sister had the perfect figure: long legs, a narrow waist, and full chest. Once, Victoire had borrowed Dominique's favorite blouse. It was green silk with puffed sleeves and a scoop neck. Victoire had been given so many compliments that Dominique had given it to her by the end of the day.

"Finish packing tonight," Victoire instructed. "I don't want to miss the train tomorrow."

"Fine."

"Teddy's stopping by tonight." Victoire's voice was tight. "He wants to see how you're doing."

For just a moment, Dominique thought that she saw something like pain flash across her sister's face. Her thin arms were crossed over her chest; Victoire was hurt that Teddy hadn't asked how she was doing, Dominique realized, and she took a tentative step towards her sister.

"Tori…"

"Don't call me that," Victoire said waspishly. "We're not children anymore."

Dominique flinched. She had always called her sister Tori. When the three of them had been younger and, perhaps, kinder, Dominique had struggled with French. Her mum had been patient, coaxing Dominique to read French picture books and sing French nursery rhymes, but it had never quite registered. Dominique had difficulty pronouncing French words, especially Victoire. While her mum's impatience grew, Victoire's seemed to lessen, and Dominique had been the only person who she had allowed to address her by a nickname. Victoire had always been _Victory _or _Tori _to Dominique. Not, apparently, anymore.

"I have a name," Victoire said. "Please learn to use it."

"Okay."

"Be ready when Teddy gets here."

"Whatever you say, Victoire."

Her sister pursed her lips. The name still sounded odd to Dominique, but if Victoire found it strange, she showed no sign of it. When the door shut behind her, Dominique crawled on to her window seat, crossed her legs, and unlatched the window. The smell of salt and brine filled her bedroom, mixed with the Sea Lavender that grew farther down the cliffs. In the distance, the sun was just slipping over the edge of the world. The sky was colored with red and gold, and Dominique thought wistfully of the cozy Gryffindor common room.

"Nicki!" Her dad's voice drifted up from the kitchen. "Nick, Teddy's here."

Dominique sprang from the window, taking the stairs two at a time. When she reached the kitchen, she was out of breath. Teddy was seated at the scrubbed table, a mug of tea in his hands. His face was pale and drawn, and yellow bruises decorated his eyes. Nevertheless, he managed a smile upon seeing her. "Painting?" he asked.

Dominique shook her head. "Packing." She paused, looking at her father guiltily. "Well, sort of."

Her dad laughed. He pulled her in, kissing the top of her head affectionately. "My scatter-brained daughter."

"I'm all packed," Victoire announced.

Dominique hadn't noticed her sister until she spoke. She sat at the table across from Teddy, stirring honey into her tea. Her thin fingers twirled a spoon around the mug, and she smiled at Dominique when nobody else was looking. There was something smug in it and Dominique's spine stiffened.

Teddy was already speaking. "I have those papers for you to sign, Bill."

"Papers?" Dominique frowned. "What for?"

Teddy didn't answer. He was staring hard into the black depths of his tea. From this angle, Dominique could see the thick stubble on his jaw and the wrinkles on his clothes. He looked tired, much more tired than she remembered, and her heart ached a little for him. Across the table, Victoire glared at her as if she had punched Teddy in the face.

"His permission papers," she responded coolly. "He needs someone to act as his legal guardian."

"Oh."

There was a heavy silence. Dominique felt as if the room was shrinking, the roof collapsing in on top of her. Of course. She had forgotten, for a blissful moment, that Andromeda was gone. But of course Teddy needed a guardian. He didn't turn seventeen until April. "Sorry." Her voice was a whisper. "I didn't mean… I wasn't thinking."

"No." Victoire frowned. "You really weren't."

"It's okay, Dom." Teddy offered her a weak smile. "I forget sometimes too."

Just hearing him say the words made her feel a hundred times better, as if led weights had been lifted off of her chest. Dominique let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding. Their eyes caught, grey on blue, and Teddy gave her the smallest of nods. Victoire noticed their silent exchange and frowned, reaching across the table to take Teddy's hands.

"Anyways," she said, "Uncle Harry's away on business, so Papa's generously agreed to sign the forms."

Bill winced, and Dominique ducked her head to hide a smile. She had long suspected that Bill hated that name. Dominique had tried calling him papa when she was young, but it just hadn't fit, and she suspected that Bill liked _dad_ a lot better anyways. It was only his French-speaking children that called him Papa.

"I'll sign them now," Bill offered. "Just let me find a quill."

He disappeared into the next room, and there was the echoing _bang _of drawers opening and closing. The kitchen lapsed into a silence that was broken only by the ticking of the clock. Eventually, Victoire cleared her throat.

"Shouldn't you be packing?" she asked pointedly.

Dominique shrugged. "It can wait."

"Dominique." Her sister's voice was sharp. "Go pack."

Dominique looked down at where their hands lay, intertwined, and understood too late. Hot blood filled her cheeks. Teddy must have seen her expression because he tried to pill away, but Victoire held his hand tightly. Dominique's mouth tasted oddly sour and pressure built in her chest. She stumbled towards the door, suddenly very eager to leave. "I'll see you on the train, Teddy," she said stiffly.

"Wait!" His cheeks were red, but his gaze was steady. "You're doing okay?"

"Yeah." Dominique forced a smile. "I'm fine."

"You always are," he said, but his voice was soft.

They stared at one another. For just a second, his grey eyes looked lighter than she remembered, and Dominique squinted at him. The irises were almost yellow. While it was not unusual for Teddy to change his eye color at random – Merlin knew she had seen him do it enough times over the years – Dominique knew that his metamorphogus powers hadn't worked since the funeral. She frowned, stepping back into the kitchen.

"What?" Teddy looked alarmed. "What's wrong?"

Dominique blinked. His eyes were grey again, and she shook her head. "I'm fine," she repeated. "Everything's just fine."

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><p>Please leave me a <strong>review<strong>. Should I continue? What do you think of the characters so far? I'm open to feedback!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Wow! It's awesome that people are already following this; I'm glad that people are willing to give it a try after just one chapter(!) This chapter features two hugs; see if you can spot them both!

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Journeys<strong>

_"To deny our own impulses is to deny the very thing that makes us human." - The Matrix_

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><p>"What are you drawing, dear?"<p>

Dominique looked up from her construction paper. Her small hands were wrapped around a red pen, gripping it in a fist. Her legs dangled off the plastic stool. Next to her, Andromeda was admiring her work. Dominique offered her a toothy grin. She had lost her first tooth last Sunday, two whole years before Victoire had lost her teeth, and the six-year-old beamed.

"I'm scribbling," she explained.

"I can see that." Andromeda took a sip of her tea, amused. "It's very lovely."

"It's red!"

"Don't you want some other colors?" the older woman prompted.

Dominique shook her head. "Just red."

Andromeda stirred her tea, humming a little to herself. The sleeves of her loose knit sweater dragged across the table. Her brown hair was swept up into a knot on top of her head, and grey streaked through it like forks of lightning. Dominique's brow furrowed.

"I'm going to draw you," she declared.

Andromeda took a calculated sip of her tea. "No grey hair, okay?"

"I only have red," Dominique reminded her.

"That's fair," Andromeda conceded. "Go for it, Nick."

Very carefully, Dominique smoothed over her paper. She tapped her chin with the pen. She pursed her lips, humming to herself. She imitated Andromeda's posture, slouching forward in her seat. Teddy's grandma was the best artist in the whole world. Dominique would give anything to be like her. Very deliberately, Dominique drew a round circle. She added dots for the eyes, and long slashes of red for the hair.

"There!" she announced, displaying the portrait. "All done!"

Andromeda grinned. "That's wonderful, dear. I'll put it by my bed."

"Wait!" Dominique drew a 'u' for the mouth. "Okay. Now it's finished."

She passed the picture to Andromeda, who held it gingerly, as if she had truly been entrusted with an ancient relic. There was the slam of a door. Dominique jumped, swiveling around on her stool. Victoire and Teddy raced through the kitchen, their faces flushed. Victoire had dirt on her nose, and Teddy's trousers were ripped at the knee. They were both grinning from ear-to-ear.

"I _told_ you it was a bad idea," Victoire was saying. "Honestly, Teddy-"

"It was an accident!"

"Was not!" she bickered.

"Was too!"

"Merlin," Andromeda sighed. "What is it this time, you two?"

Victoire immediately launched into a longwinded story involving the neighborhood cat and a cheering charm. Dominique's eyes strayed to where Teddy stood, fidgeting anxiously with his trousers. His hair was turning red with embarrassment. Dominique's stomach clenched. She wished that she had been with them to see the cat, but Victoire would have never allowed it. It was too bad. Dominique loved animals.

"Let's go have a look," Andromeda said, looking torn between amusement and exasperation. "Nicki, you stay here. Keep drawing."

"But-"

"Please," Andromeda implored, and Dominique nodded reluctantly.

The door closed behind the trio. Dominique stared at the blank page. The pen felt warm in her hand, melting into butter in the firm grip of her fist. The warm sun streaming in through the window made her bones feel soft and supple. An odd sensation flooded her, water filling a cup, and the pen began to shift across the page.

Dominique watched, fascinated. Her hand flitted across the page in strong, certain strokes. A creature's paw emerged, followed by a snout. Her red pen colored in the fine details of the fur. Something round emerged behind the animal - a moon? - and she filled in craters and crevices. Her fingers began to ache, and her hand was cramping. It was painful. It was magical. It was-

_"Dominique!"_

She jolted awake. The pen fell from her hand. Fear shot through her, fast and fierce, and Dominique jumped from the stool. Her heart was slamming painfully against her ribcage. Andromeda stood in the doorway, her mouth parted in horror. Dominique swallowed. She took a step away from the picture, as if it were a contagious being that could infect her.

"I didn't mean to." Dominique paused, guilty. "I swear, Dromeda!"

Andromeda picked her way carefully through the kitchen. Her footsteps were deliberate, as if a sudden movement could set off a land mine. She stooped at the knees, reaching down to pick up the abandoned picture. The animal caught the light, revealing canine teeth and heavy paws: a wolf.

"You must never tell anyone about this." Andromeda's voice was eerily flat and calm. "Do you understand, Nicki?"

"Why?"

"I'll tell you one day," Andromeda promised, "but not today."

Dominique watched, entranced, as a flame appeared at the end of Andromeda's wand. The older witch burned the edges of the picture. The fire licked a path across the paper, and Dominique bit her lip as bits of ash dusted the floor with blackened snow. The kitchen was silent. She looked down at her hands. The red ink ran like blood over her hands.

"There." Andromeda wiped her hands on her sweater. "All fixed."

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><p>Dominique woke with a start.<p>

She sat bolt upright, her hands grappling with invisible demons. Her legs were twisted in the sheets. A thin layer of sweat covered her forehead and back, and brown curls were plastered to her face. Her breaths came in staccato pants. Dominique swung her legs over the side of the bed, bracing herself against her knees.

A dream. That's all it was.

Or rather, a memory. Dominique placed a hand over her pounding heart, her thoughts racing in time with its frantic beating. She had almost forgotten that day; it was ten years ago now. Shakily, Dominique's fingers fumbled for the light switch. Her hand found her wand, and she murmured a quick "lumos." The room blinked into existence.

An abandoned sketch of a wolf sat on her desk.

The creature's head was thrust back, although whether in pain or delight, Dominique couldn't have said. Gooseflesh rose on her arms. With the art of one well practiced, she knelt on the cold floor. Her hands retrieved a shoebox from under the bed. Dominique placed the drawing with the others, shoving the box quickly back beneath the bed.

"Thank Merlin!" The door flew open. "You're awake. I would have been beyond irritated if we missed the train and then had to-" Victoire cut off, her gaze falling upon Dominique. "What are you doing on the floor?"

Dominique kept her face blank. "I dropped something."

"You dropped something?" Victoire repeated, incredulous.

"A book," she elaborated. "I dropped it beneath the bed."

Victoire looked skeptical. "You're not holding a book."

"You interrupted my search," Dominique said pointedly.

The two sisters studied one another. Victoire was dressed in her Head Girl robes. The badge was pinned to her Gryffindor robes, which had been washed and ironed. Her blonde hair was pulled up to reveal the graceful curve of her neck. Dominique looked down; she was sporting a Puddlemere United shirt and boxers. Her hands were stained with paint from the previous night. Victoire raised an eyebrow.

"We leave in ten minutes for King's Cross," she informed her. "You may want to change into something more appropriate." Victoire paused, her hand on the doorknob. "And for Merlin's sake, comb your hair, Dominique. You look like you live in a cave."

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><p>The train issued steam that billowed across the platform, the grey skirts of ghosts. The express was a shimmering red, and Dominique's hand itched for her paintbrush and paints in the shades of scarlet and rust. Shouts of laughter echoed around the station. She could make out Louis' gleaming blonde hair, almost white in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. Her brother's owl was perched on his shoulder. It was preening, straightening its glossy black feathers. Louis stroked it fondly as he spoke to one of his friends in hushed french.<p>

"Hey, squirt."

A hand ruffled Dominique's hair. She sighed, chagrined, as all of her careful brushing came apart under the attacker's hands. "You've ruined my hair," she lamented. "Victoire's going to kill me."

"I'll protect you," Teddy promised.

"Liar." Dominique grinned reluctantly. "She'd step all over you."

"Guilty," he agreed.

The steam parted, and Teddy's face came into existence. His sandy blond hair was falling into his eyes, and his tall frame was slouching at the shoulders, as if he were wearing an invisible knapsack filled with bricks. He had already changed into his Gryffindor robes, but his tie was askew. His eyes were bloodshot and smudged with purple bruises. Dominique sucked in a quick breath.

"Teddy..."

"It's that bad, huh?" Teddy smiled thinly. "I don't suppose you could do a charm to hide it?"

"Just change your appearance." Dominique hated to say the words. She loved Teddy best exactly as he was, with tired eyes and quick smiles, but if Victoire caught sight of Teddy's appearance, her sister would be hysterical. "Use your metamorphmagus powers."

"I can't," Teddy said. "They're still not working."

"That's not possible."

Dominique's brow furrowed. She had heard of metamorphmagi losing their powers after a traumatic event, but it usually didn't last for long. Andromeda had passed away a month ago; Teddy should have physically recovered by now. She bit her lip, and Teddy rolled his eyes, cuffing her on the shoulder.

"It's fine, Dom," he told her. "I've always been a little slow on the uptake."

She couldn't help but smile. "You're the best wizard in Seventh Year."

"Now you're just flattering me."

"You're a git," she sighed.

Teddy grinned. "Come here, squirt."

Dominique wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on her tiptoes to reach him. Teddy smelled of pine and the woods outside the castle. She could feel his heart, steady and sure beneath hers own, and an odd feeling of disappointment went through her. Her stomach squirmed unpleasantly. Her own heartbeat picked up, fluttering in her chest.

"Don't worry, Dom." Teddy pulled back to run a thumb over her forehead, smoothing away the wrinkles. He was grinning. "I just need some sleep."

That hadn't been why she had been frowning at all. An odd feeling had pooled in her stomach, frustration and something else, and Dominique forced her lips to smile. "I know."

"I should go find Victoire and the others." Teddy ruffled her hair again. "I'll see you at the castle, yeah?"

"Sure."

Dominique watched as the steam swallowed his lean frame once more. Her nails dug into the flesh of her palm, so hard that it hurt. She wanted to scream. She wanted to shout. Suddenly, the idea of Teddy ruffling her hair was so unappealing that she wanted to be sick. Dominique took a steady breath, pivoting on the spot. She had to get a grip. Where was her trolley? Her dad had pushed it on to the platform, and then-

"Nicki!"

Dominique straightened. She knew that voice in her sleep. "Nova?"

"Looking for something?"

Dominique squinted. Through the steam, she could make out the shadow of a girl standing between two trollies. Nova's dark hair fell in a sheet to her waist, and her long legs were supported by thin heels. Her friend's bra was lacy and red through her shirt. Dominique let out an exaggerated whistle, and Nova laughed. "You haven't changed a bit," she announced. "Come here, gorgeous!"

Nova's thin arms were steel bands around her shoulders, and Dominique's lungs were crushed against her ribcage. She could smell cinnamon and vanilla, and Nova's hair tickled her nose. Dominique grinned, and the two girls exchanged kisses on the cheek. It was a greeting that both girls had been raised with: Dominique, because of her French background, and Nova, because of her aristocratic mother.

"Look at you!" Dominique pulled back, gripping Nova's shoulders. "You're tanned, Holloway!"

"Mom had business in Egypt." Nova rolled her eyes. "Dad insisted that we go along. He seems to think that we need more time as a family."

"He's probably right."

"Maybe," Nova agreed. "But we don't need to spend it in meetings. Mom practically slept with her work."

"Really?"

"That, and half the hotel staff." Nova's voice was light, but her eyes were dark. "Anyways, let's board the train. I'm dying for a pumpkin pastie."

She slung an arm over Dominique's shoulder. Nova was taller than Dominique remembered, now only an inch or two shorter than she was. Her friend's collared shirt was a crisp white against her tanned skin, and her nails were a bright red that matched her crimson bra. "Do you think that they have treacle tart?" Nova sighed. Her eyes were glazed, and her bag bumped against her hip, the coins jingling merrily. "Or fudge. I do love fudge."

Dominique's grip on her waist tightened. Nova was also much thinner than she remembered; Dominique could feel the bones of her ribcage, staggered like ivory keys on a piano. The holiday with her family must have been more stressful than she had let on; she had definitely lost weight. Dominique's heart squeezed, not only in sympathy, but also in a terrible envy.

"I brought celery," she admitted. "I'm not that hungry."

Nova wrinkled her nose. "You need some meat on your bones, Nick."

"I'm not hungry," she repeated.

Nova gave her an odd look, but merely shrugged. "Your loss."

The two girls took seats in an empty compartment near the back of the express. Nova continued to lament about her summer, describing in detail the trials of sharing a cramped hotel room with her mother and father. Mr. and Mrs. Holloway were in a constant state of inconstant happiness; a large part of Dominique was surprised that the pair weren't divorced by now. Nova always complained that she was stuck with the drawbacks but none of the benefits: her parents acted like they were separated, but didn't try to buy her forgiveness because they were still technically married.

"It sounds like your summer was a nightmare too," Nova added, popping a treacle tart into her mouth. "I saw Teddy on the platform. He looks like shit."

Dominique bristled. "He just lost his grandmother."

"Yeah, but..." Nova finished chewing, swallowing the tart. "There's something else too."

Unbidden, the image of Victoire's hand resting on top of Teddy's flooded Dominique's mind, and she stiffened. Was it possible that her sister had rejected Teddy? Her traitorous heart filled with hope, and Dominique quickly shoved the thought away. No. Victoire and Teddy were bound to begin dating any day now.

"What is it?" Nova was studying her delightedly. "You look guilty."

"No I don't!"

"Yes, you do," Nova observed happily. "You look positively ashamed."

"Shove off," Dominique ordered, throwing a chocolate frog wrapper at her friend. Nova twisted out of the way, giggling. She looked eager to launch into an interrogation, and Dominique hastily changed the subject. "Victoire's Head Girl this year."

"Of course she is." Nova rolled her eyes. "Prim Princess is probably ecstatic."

Dominique sighed half-heartedly. "Don't call her that."

"What is the point of being a Slytherin," Nova complained, "if I have to act like a Hufflepuff?"

"Don't cook up any potions," Dominique warned. "Tori can throw you in detention this year."

Nova snorted. "Like I care."

Dominique made a mental note to search Nova's dormitory and confiscate all potions supplies. Last year, the Gryffindors and Slytherins had potions class together, and Dominique had been exposed to what exactly her friend was capable of. Nova was religious about potions; she put Dominique's love of art to shame. Her friend was capable of concocting potions that gave her enemies purple boils, thorns, and sausages for fingers. And there was nobody that Nova hated more than Victoire.

"She's my sister," Dominique reminded her. "I still love her."

"She hasn't given you much reason to."

"Sometimes we love people unreasonably," Dominique countered. "Love can't be justified."

"You're a pushover," Nova complained, but Dominique could tell that the subject was dropped, and she breathed a sigh of relief, turning her attention once again to the countryside rushing by them.

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><p><strong>Please <strong>leave a review! Which hug was better? What do you think of Nova so far? And what's up with Dominique's weird eating? Why is Teddy acting so moody? I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note_: the action begins in this chapter! I wrote it during class (when I was supposed to be paying attention), so please forgive any strange or cliche dialogue. Multitasking is a difficult feat!

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: Transformations<br>**

_"They died hard, those savage men - like wounded wolves at bay. They were filthy, and they were lousy, and they stunk. And I loved them."  
>-Douglas MacArthur<br>_

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><p>"Dominique." Fingers were snapped in her face. "You can't sleep on your potatoes."<p>

"Watch me," she mumbled.

"Wake up."

Something wet collided with her forehead. Dominique blinked, rubbing her bleary eyes. Across from her, Nova grinned. Her red fingernails were gleefully flicking droplets of water at Dominique's face. The Great Hall was almost empty now, save for a few Hufflepuffs playing exploding snap. Dominique stared mournfully at her peas. It was only a week into term and she was already falling asleep on her dinner.

"Go to sleep," Nova ordered. "You look like hell."

"You just said-"

"Not here." Nova rolled her eyes. "In a bed. Have you heard of a bed before, Weasley?"

"Git," she yawned.

The fork slipped from her hand, falling to the plate with a clatter. Dominique thought about picking it up for a moment. It seemed like a large amount of effort to do so. Nova gave her a pointed look. With a sigh of defeat, Dominique rose from the table, leaving her dinner untouched. Nova mirrored her movement, adjusting her short skirt.

"You should skip Potions tomorrow," she suggested. "You could sleep for a change, Nicki."

"Can't." Dominique's voice echoed in the foyer. "My paper's due."

"Lofthouse is an evil man."

"Victoire likes him."

"That only proves my point." Nova smirked, backing towards the dungeons. Her heels made clicking sounds on the tile. "Good night, Weasley. Get some sleep."

Dominique snorted. "Yes, Mum."

She took the stairs two at a time, her book bag slapping her in the thigh. The climb to Ravenclaw tower was long and laborious, and Dominique was out of breath by the time she reached the top. The bronze knocker was meticulously shined and polished. Dominique stroked the eagle's wing, and the doorknob ruffled oiled wings. Its voice was quick and lilting.

_"I'm tall when I'm young_

_I'm short when I'm old_

_What am I?"_

Dominique was almost offended. Sometimes, the riddles were so easy that she thought the entire castle could have answered them. "A candle," she sighed.

The door swung open, revealing a circular room with arched windows. Swaths of blue and bronze silk covered the wall. Dominique stepped into the room, and her feet sunk into the deep carpet. Many of the students were still awake, scribbling notes or practicing charms. The room was silent, save for the occasional whisper. Dominique continued up the stairs, stumbling into her dorm.

"Oh, good." Her room mate, Thalia, looked up from her notes. "I was beginning to worry. I thought that maybe you'd-" She cut off, catching sight of Dominique's disheveled appearance. "Good Merlin."

"What?"

"Your face."

Dominique smiled wryly. "Yes, I've been told it's a work of art."

"You look terrible," Thalia continued, ignoring her entirely. "Have you slept at all in the last week?"

"Maybe." Dominique yawned, collapsing on to her bed. "I can't remember."

"Have you been eating enough?"

"Honestly, Thalia." Dominique's voice was muffled by her pillow. "I'm fine."

Thalia Hooch studied her skeptically. Her long brown hair was piled sloppily on top of her head, and her lower lip was chapped and bitten. Crumpled paper and quills were splayed across her bed, and several empty mugs of tea littered her desk. Thalia removed her thick square glasses, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"I'm going to turn in soon," she announced. "You're not painting tonight, are you?"

"No." Dominique rolled over. "I'd fall asleep on the canvas."

Thalia brightened. "Remember the time you actually did fall asleep on the-" She was cut off by a series of three short raps on the door. Dominique groaned, burrowing her face further into her pillow. Thalia threw a quill at her, and it collided with her shoulder. "You get it. It'll be one of your cousins."

"How do you know?"

"Like my brother would visit me," Thalia snorted. "He never leaves the quidditch pitch."

Reluctantly, Dominique stumbled to her feet, yanking the door open. Louis stood in the doorway, his mouth a flat line. His blond hair was meticulously groomed, and a lock fell into his eyes. To anybody else, it would have looked careless, but Dominique knew better; Louis was precise. Despite being only thirteen, Louis was a foot taller than Dominique, and she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.

"Yes?"

"There's a problem." His accent turned the '_s_' into a '_z_.' "With Teddy."

Dominique's blood went cold. "Where is he?"

"Outside the common room." Louis frowned. "He asked for you."

"Has anybody told Victoire about-?"

"Teddy asked me not to," Louis said, and his expression was pained. "He wants you."

Dominique's traitorous heart sped up, and Louis scowled, as if he could guess her thoughts. Dominique forced herself to hold his gaze, her chin jutting out. Behind her, Thalia was watching the pair curiously. Her quill hovered halfway to her mouth, and she had forgotten to put one arm through the sleeve of her housecoat.

"Thank-you, Lou." Dominique's voice came out hoarse, and she cleared her throat. "Thank-you," she repeated. "I've got it from here."

Louis looked skeptical, but he nodded. "Hurry."

Dominique sidestepped him, retracing her path down the stairs. Many of the students had cleared out of the common room leaving only a few students, their faces bathed in golden candlelight. None looked up as she passed. Ghostlike, Dominique drifted across the room, slipping silently out of the tower.

"Teddy?" she whispered.

"Dom."

The voice was low, gravel. Dominique sucked in a quick breath. Teddy was slouched against a pillar, his back rounded. His forehead was sticky with sweat, and the front of his collared shirt was unbuttoned. His skin was the same colorless white, and Dominique couldn't tell where the shirt stopped and skin began. She surged towards him, and Teddy held up a hand.

"Don't!" he commanded, his voice sharp. "It might be infectious."

"Teddy..." Dominique's voice was hardly a whisper. "You need the Hospital Wing. Now."

"No."

"It wasn't a question," she hissed. "Look at you!"

"I can't go." A shudder ripped through him, and Dominique watched helplessly as he half-collapsed against the pillar, his eyelids fluttering. "Uncle Harry's worried about me. After Dromeda's death." Teddy clenched and unclenched his hands, and Dominique was entranced. His fingers looked like a possessed flower, budding and then decaying. "Harry will think that I've gone mad."

"That's why you didn't tell Victoire," she realized. "She would have told him."

Teddy laughed, but it was humorless. "I love her, but Vic can't keep a secret to save her life."

"Then let me help you," Dominique demanded, and she growled in frustration when Teddy shook his head. "For Christ's sake, Edward Lupin! It's either me or the Hospital Wing."

"I could infect you."

"I'm not made of glass," Dominique sighed.

Teddy looked ready to protest, but a shudder ripped through his body. He let out a low, keening moan. The hair on the back of her neck rose. Instinctively, Dominique took a step backwards. He sounded different. His breath came in short, quick pants, and Dominique bit her lip; Teddy sounded like an animal.

"I'm going to check if you're running a fever, okay?"

Teddy nodded weakly. Dominique stepped forward carefully, as if approaching a rabid dog. She held out a soothing hand. Teddy twisted away from her, but she kept a firm grip on his chin. He smelled of pine and soap. His eyes met hers, grey on blue, and she pressed her cool hand against his forehead. Teddy was burning up.

"Well?" he croaked.

Dominique swallowed. "Let's sit on the grounds. That will help with the fever."

"It's night."

She smiled crookedly. "When has that ever stopped us before?"

"I'll follow you," he conceded.

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><p>Teddy was half-delirious by the time they made it outside. One arm was slung around Dominique's shoulder. Together, they staggered down the steps and on to the lawn. Teddy was lean, but he was a good foot taller than Dominique, and his body was like led weights on her shoulders. She gritted her teeth, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.<p>

"Stop." Teddy's voice was choked. "I can't... I'm going to..."

"Teddy?"

Dominique's voice was deliberately calm. Her heart was smacking painfully against her ribcage, and she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. Teddy's eyes looked yellow in the moonlight. He was fetched up against the broom shed, his hands clawing at his own skin. Dominique was frozen, unable to stay, and yet unable to leave.

"It feels like knives," he ground out. "My skin... All over..."

She took a step forward. "Has this happened before?"

Teddy let out a hoarse laugh. "Think I'd remember..." he managed, "if it had."

Dominique was about to announce that Teddy was going to the Hospital Wing, to hell with what the family might think, when Teddy snarled. His body shuddered, and he fell forward on to the grass, his hands clawing at the dirt. His head was lengthening. Tufts of hair began to sprout from his face, his jaw, the backs of his knuckles.

Dominique froze. That was impossible.

Her head snapped to where the full moon was casting shadows across the lawn. Teddy's arched back was bathed in the silver liquid, and if he hadn't been crying out, Dominique would have said that the transformation was almost beautiful. An animal was breaking free of human skin. Dominique had heard enough stories of Teddy's father to know what was happening; it just didn't make sense.

"Teddy?" she whispered. "Teddy, can you understand me?"

The beast's head whipped sideways, and Dominique swallowed. There was nothing of Teddy in its eyes. The flat yellow discs were gold coins in the moonlight. It took a smug step towards her, and Dominique took a hasty step back. The wolf snapped at her, almost lazily, revealing sharp fangs.

Dominique ran.

The wolf leaped to meet her, and she dodged sideways, skirting around the animal. The broom shed was mere meters away. Dominique could hear her own heartbeat goading her on, a cannon in her chest. The wolf's breath was hot on her neck, and she forced her legs to move, flying across the lawn. Her wand was in her hand.

"_Alohamora_," she gasped.

The door sprang open. Dominique jumped inside, whirling around to shut the door. It caught on the wolf's snout. Sharp white teeth snapped at her. Dominique threw her weight against the door, but the creature was stronger, and a choked sob escaped her throat. She couldn't die like this. Not like this. Not when Teddy would wake up and see what he had done.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She pointed her wand at the animal. "_Stupefy_."

The wolf flew backwards, hitting the lawn with a dull thud. Dominique heard a whine. Her heart in her throat, she slammed the door, sending spell after spell at the wall. The broom shed was illuminated in red and green and blue. Her hand shook, and the spells ricocheted off the wooden rafters. Her knees gave out. Exhausted, Dominique sank to the floor.

"It's fine," she chanted. "It's fine, it's fine. We're fine."

Outside, a wolf howled in eerie harmony.

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><p>When the first shafts of light crept in through the boarded shack, Dominique stood. She stood by the sealed door, listening for the sound of heavy breathing or paws on the wood. Silence. Cautiously, she pushed open the door. Bright autumn sunlight reflected off the lake, and Dominique squinted against the glare. Sitting on the bank, half-naked, was Teddy.<p>

"Merlin," she muttered.

Picking her way across the lawn, Dominique sat down beside him. Teddy's blond hair was ruffled, sticking up all over his head, and he was staring hard at the lake. His grey eyes were the same color as the morning mist. "Did I hurt you?"

She swallowed. "No."

"I could have."

"It wasn't you," she told him.

Teddy's face was carefully blank. "Then who was it?"

"Someone that I didn't like very much," she said.

Teddy didn't smile. Scratches ran up his biceps, small red veins, and Dominique touched one unthinkingly. Teddy flinched. His eyes fell to his hands. They were raw and chapped, and his nail beds were caked with black dirt. "What's happening to me?" he muttered.

"I don't know." It wasn't something that Dominique, a Ravenclaw, liked to admit. She bit the inside of her cheek. "Maybe it's hereditary. Your father was a-"

"Don't." His voice was sharp. "Please don't say the word."

"Okay."

"Dom?" Teddy's jaw was hard. "You won't tell, will you?"

She shook her head. "Never."

They sat in silence, staring out at the lake. Dominique's fingers itched for paints and a brush. She would paint the changing lake in short, quick strokes of azure. The sky would be filled in with wispy clouds, smudged with her fingers. The shadows of the few fowl across the lake would be hard black squiggles. And the boy sitting beside her, half-naked on the banks, would be painted in grey; he had retreated so far into himself that he was nothing but a ghost.

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><p><strong>Please <strong>read and review! What's going on with Teddy? Will Dominique tell someone? And why is she so tired? What do you think of Thalia? I'd love to hear your thoughts!


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